Lost And Found
by divine one
Summary: Marshall is dead. How does Lily survive without him? Does she even really want to? Marshall is dead and Barney is the only one who sees, truly sees, how devestated Lily is by his loss. And Barney does all that he can think of to try and help Lily learn to function again. Barney/Lily.
1. Not Breathing

Summary: Marshall is dead. How does Lily survive without him? Does she even really want to? Marshall is dead and Barney is the only one who sees, truly sees, how devastated Lily is by his loss. And Barney does all that he can think of to try and help Lily learn to function again Notes: I've spent the last three years working on this Marshallsdeadverse I've previously posted all of the chapters of this verse as separate installments here on FF net. I'm now posting them as a multi chapter fic. Please note that all entries in this verse are pretty dark and angsty. Welcome to the Marshallsdeadverse. Disclaimer on profile.

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It had been six months and she was doing all the things that people did again. Waking up. Bathing. Combing her hair. Eating – although not enough. Working – she was painting again, although now, all of the colors were muted; blackened and greyed. She was even watching TV although she didn't focus on anything.

The one thing she still _wasn't_ doing, the thing that was most obviously separating her from the land of the living, was sleeping. The first few weeks after his death, she'd slept almost endlessly. Curving her form into a ball on her side of the bed, her head buried in his pillow, trying desperately to breathe in his scent instead of air.

But that was just during the first few weeks. Since then, she'd only slept in fits and bouts. Her eyes finally drifting shut when they could no longer be forced to stay open. Noon might find her sprawled out on the couch dead to the world. But the sleep she gathered round her head was brief and shallow. Only enough to keep her body functioning. Only enough to make it possible for her to bathe, comb her hair, paint, and sit in front of the television.

Next to Marshall, sleep was what Lily missed most.

But if she couldn't have Marshall, how could she have the soothing, deadening, limbo of sleep?

Most people thought she was doing better. That she was functioning, both in mind and in body, at almost full capacity. They saw her here and there, and they thought she was present. That she was living in the here and now.

Ted thought that. Ted with his empty 'I'm so sorries' and his stupid 'I loved him toos'. He thought she was living and breathing again. _Stupid Ted._

And Robin. Robin was... Robin. When she allowed herself to think about Lily, she imagined that Lily was healing; breathing air versus the constant grey. Robin was a good friend when she wasn't wrapped up in her flights of fancy of becoming the next Katie Couric, or better yet, the next Barbara Walters; when she wasn't planning to take her life to Australia, or to India and start her career over. Yes, she was a good friend when she was petting Lily with a hesitant hand. A hand afraid of becoming contaminated by emotions.

Most people thought Lily was doing better. That she was functioning, both in mind and in body at almost full capacity. They saw her here and there, and they thought she was present. That she was living in the here and now.

The only one who seemed to know, who actually seemed to understand that she was mostly dead, was Barney.

Barney Stinson.

Playboy. Womanizer. Narcissist. Barney Stinson.

Only, he wasn't a narcissist. Not at heart. The ego and the hyper self-esteem? Facades. Thick facades, but facades none-the-less.

She'd always known he was deeper, more open, more caring than he let on. She'd always known it. But she'd seen it in action more often than most. There was the time, when she and Marshall had broken up, and she was across the world (or so it had seemed) trying to forage and forget... Who had come to get her? None other than Barney.

Then, shortly after that, she'd moved in with Barney and become his 'anti-wingwoman'. Those weeks with him had been clarifying; crystallizing her opinion of the man. Of the heart of the man.

And then, of course, there was now.

Now when she was broken and cold; nearly dead and barely moving, now, she realized that once again, Stinson was more than he let on. He saw that she was bleeding and broken. He saw that she was cold and blue. And he became a lifeline. A lifeline to a world she wasn't positive she wanted to live in anymore. A lifeline that wouldn't let go of her, even though her lifeless fingers had all but let go of it. Barney gave her a bit of air. He was a craggy suture. He was a… companion.

Barney came to see her every other night; after work. He came bearing food. Italian. Chinese. Thai. Indian…. The best burger ever…. And he made her eat. At times resorting to feeding her himself – if her day had been particularly bad – if she was particularly listless.

Barney also came bearing news of the world. His world. "So I picked up this red head last night Lil. Boobs out to HERE! And… surprise, surprise, the carpet MATCHED the curtains. Although, sadly, the boobs were plastic. Oh well, can't win them all, all of the time."

She didn't particularly care about what flavor, or what dish Barney had bedded the night before. But she appreciated his being there. And his reminding her of that there was a world out there, still circulating and moving and pumping. She also appreciated his stillness. After the stories of his conquests, Barney would become silent. He would open his arms to her from his spot on the couch, or on her bed. And he would hold her. Hold her, unmoving, while the TV flickered. Hold her, as he stroked her hair, while her tears soaked his silk/linen/cotton shirts. Hold her in the silence.

Barney came to see her every other night; after work. He came bearing food. He came bearing air and salve. He came even when she yelled at him to 'get out! Get out and NEVER come back.' He came even when she told him to 'leave me the hell alone, Stinson. I don't need your help anymore. I don't WANT your help!' He came even after she told him, achingly, longingly that 'I want to die. I want to die, it hurts so much.'

But Barney Stinson, beneath the facade, had a heart. A heart that saw her, and understood.

And so, he continued to come. He continued to breathe for her. He continued to heal the ever open wound.

And he told his stories, and he stroked her hair, and he watched the black and white flickering screen, and he listened to the heavy laden silence.


	2. Barely Afloat

This had never been his goal. It had never been on his radar. _Never._

Some people might not believe him if they heard him say that, but, it was true. Barney the womanizer never really considered the possibility of fucking Lily Aldrin.

Oh, don't get him wrong, he teased her, he waggled his tongue lasciviously in her direction, but it was just that, 'teasing'. Playing. He did it to all women; it kept his hunting skills sharp.

But, he had never really _considered_ Lily as a viable option.

He never really thought he'd be balls deep in her warmth.

Yet, here he was. Balls. Deep. In Lily Aldrin.

And it only took Marshall's death for him to get there.

Would it be evil of him to say it was worth it?

Yeah it would be.

But, fuck… Lily was tight, and wet, and hot beneath him. And she was calling his name. Moaning 'Barney' in a voice, a tone, he'd quickly become addicted to.

Honestly, would he wish Marshall dead, wish Lily to endure all of the pain she'd suffered at Marshall's loss, just to end up where he was?

No.

But, knowing what he knew now, how she felt, how she sounded, how she tasted…, he would have hounded her, hunted her…, done whatever it took to try and take her from Marshall.

He wasn't completely positive how he'd ended up where he was at this moment. It wasn't like Marshall died and Lily dropped trou and spread her legs. No. She'd spent months, almost a year in a darkness so deep she nearly drowned in it.

At first, he'd given her her space. He let the others pull her into their embraces and murmur their sweet condolences. But it wasn't long before they were done with their hugs and soothing words. It wasn't long before they felt they'd done all they could to help Lily Aldrin recover from the loss of her husband.

It wasn't long at all.

And it wasn't nearly enough.

It had surprised him that he was the only one who seemed to see the darkness that Lily was sinking in; the inky sorrow that clung to her like a second skin.

But he was.

He was the only one.

Ted, Robin, still her friends, but lost and trapped in their own worlds, stopped by with beer, and coffee, and smiles. Smiles that she faintly echoed. Plastered on her face until they walked back out the door. Leaving her alone.

I…, I stopped by with coffee and beer too. And food. Apparently, I was the only one who could see how small she was getting. She was wasting away. So yeah, I brought coffee, and beer, and food.

But, when I came, I didn't leave. I'd sit with her, my arms wrapped around her tiny frame, and I'd force her to 'be' with someone. To be in the same space with someone. To be tethered to the world, to reality. To me.

Sometimes, she seemed to want to be anchored to humanity. She would cling to me like a dream in the mornings' light. Desperately, longingly.

But always chastely.

Other times, I was privy to Aldrin anger. Which was a sight to behold. The woman could be a bitch of amazing capacities; nails, claws, teeth, and screams that would put a banshee to shame. And I was the recipient of that anger. That helpless, all consuming, hatred of her life - her present, her future, her past - the whole fucking world. My presence at times like this was… not appreciated.

But I didn't leave. I let the blows be struck and the blood bleed; and I brought food, and drink, and I'd sit with her, my arms wrapped around her tiny frame, and I'd force her to 'be' with someone. To be with me.

But always chastely.

We did this for nearly a whole year. Her floating, barely conscious on the dark sea; me her buoy, chained to her, keeping her safe in the middle of the night.

And then, one day, it was different. Everything was different.

It was 6 or 7 at night, and I walked into Lily's place as I always did, key in lock, food and drinks in hand.

But instead of finding her curled up on the couch, or buried under a mound of bed clothes in her room, I found her walking out of the bathroom. Strappy four inch heels, small sleek green dress clinging to her lithe form, and her hair up with those little wisps gracing her shoulders.

This was a side of Aldrin I hadn't been graced by before. Kitten. Sex kitten. And I didn't quite get how it fit into her being lost and lonely without Marshall.

At least, I didn't get it immediately.

She told me she was going out. Out being to some dive bar somewhere far away from her apartment so that she wouldn't run into someone she knew. Once she got to that bar where no one would know her, she was going to find some guy. Some man, as random and as hot as possible, and she was going to take him; take him to a hotel room, or back to his place, and she was going to fuck him.

What scared me the most was the fact that she actually looked me in the eye as she described her plans for the evening; she looked me in the eye without the hint of a blush, or embarrassment. She was… detached. Removed.

I watched as she began to review the contents of her purse – condoms, lipstick, condoms, perfume, condoms….

And suddenly, I understood WHY she wanted to do what she was planning to do. Why she was dressed as she was; why she was suddenly intent upon finding someone…, anyone.

She wanted to feel again.

She wanted to feel something… anything… even if that 'something/anything' was fleeting. Even if it was disgust.

She simply wanted to feel.

I understood. But, I couldn't let her do it. Some people were built for… whoring; built for being broken and dragged under again and again and again; all for the small addictive pains that the pleasure delivered.

I, for instance, was built for it. I could use my body to touch the emotions – briefly – that everyone else lived through.

I was broken, and I knew it. But broken was all I had ever been…. It was all I knew how to do. Lily, Lily had been whole – before - and free. If I let her do this now, she'd feel again, but she'd never be whole again. She'd never be free from the specter of Marshall – and what could have been.

So I ask her.

"Does it have to be a stranger?"

She's half listening, counting condoms I think. "What?"

"Does it have to be a stranger?"

"Does what have to be a," her voice trailed off in understanding.

She looks me in the eye. She doesn't do that much anymore. Not since Marshall's death. She doesn't look at anyone in the eye that often. I don't think she likes the emptiness she sees reflected there.

I step further into the room, dropping the Chinese food and drinks on the coffee table. I keep moving until I'm standing right in front of her. Invading her space. Sharing my space.

She's staring at my neck now, her lashes long and flush against her cheeks. Pale cheeks. She still isn't eating enough.

I lift my hand to her cheek. She's warm, not unnaturally so. I look at her chest to see if she's breathing. And she is. She's alive. Barely breathing, empty, floating in a grey morass, but, she's still alive.

My thumb smoothes across her cheek - warm, and pale, and silky - and pauses on her bottom lip.

"Barney, what are you doing?"

"Stopping you from doing something unbelievably stupid, Aldrin."

"You can't stop me. I can't… I won't stay here, this way, any more." She looks me in the eyes again; her eyes so big and so open. They're filled with the truth. "I can't take this anymore." Her nostrils flare, and she blinks back a sudden attack of tears. "I use to feel alive. I use to want to do things. I wanted to live, and to breathe, and," her voice broke, "I don't want to do those things anymore. I can't feel anything anymore, nothing except for this kind of aching hole where my life use to be. My life with… with Mar-Marshall."

She starts to back away from me, but I grab her arms holding her in place. Unable to let her go.

"Barney, let go. You can't stop me. I refuse to sit around here anymore, alone, and empty. I'm… I'm going to do whatever it takes to – to start feeling again."

I pull her closer.

"Let go!"

"I haven't let go of you once in the past year. I'm not going to let go of you now."

She struggled against me, a kitten with claws and spitfire and shadows. "Stinson, let me the fuck go!"

I shift so that one of my hands is on the curve of her ass, just where it meets her lower back. My other hand rests at the back of her neck, cradling her head. She's closed her eyes now. And her hands are trapped between our bodies; against my chest. I can feel the pressure of her pushing against me, away from me.

"Let me help you Lily."

"You can't help me! No one can help me! Damnit, just let me go!"

"If you want to feel something with someone; feel it with me. I'll make you feel Lil. I'll make every inch of your body feel."

"We can't."

Her arms were weakening.

"Why not? If you're ready to find some anonymous stranger who, may or may not, have what it takes to make you forget…, why not go with a sure thing? Go with me. I swear I'll make you forget, for just a little while, about everything."

And then, suddenly, she stopped fighting me; her arms bending against my chest, her body resting pliantly against mine, and she quietly gives me license to help her. License to help her breathe and float and live – for just a little while.


	3. Breathing You

_You're sick of feeling numb,  
You're not the only one.  
I'll take you by the hand  
And I'll show you a world  
That you can understand.  
Pain ~Three Days Grace~ _

Their first kiss was slow and tentative, a way for them to explore the flavor and the texture of one another.

And they needed to explore, to learn one another. They'd known each other for what seemed like forever…, but not like this. _This part of Barney, this part of Lily,_ was new to each of them. So they took a little time to get to know one another before Barney stepped forward, edging Lily backwards until she was against the wall. He lifted one of his hands from her ass to her head and tugged at the clips that held her hair up in a loose bun. As the chocolate locks fell free, he ran his fingers through them.

It was something he'd done before. In fact, during the past year, he'd often found himself pulling her hair out of a pony tail or bun before losing his fingers in the silken tresses. Contentment would etch itself across her face as he teased her scalp with his fingers; smoothing the tangles, and the worries away; lulling her into a state of sweet numbness.

Tonight, however, he wasn't trying to calm or soothe her. His hands in Lily's hair were all about control and release. His control and her release. He used his grasp of her mane to force her head to the side. Moving his lips along her jaw until he reached her ear, he seduced as only he could.

"How do you like it, Lil? Soft?" His hand skimmed along her neck and across her shoulder blade.

A whimper.

"Or do you like it a little rough?" His hand drifted down to her breast and he fingered her nipple through the material of her dress before pinching the small protuberance.

A hiss.

"Can't make up your mind?" He sighed teasingly, his breath skimming along her face, "I guess I can give you a little bit of both. But only because it's you Lily. Only because it's you."

Barney dragged his mouth back to Lily's and the slow exploratory tempo of the kiss was gone; and in it's place, there was demand.

It was an insistence, a commanding control that Lily was finding hard to resist. And part of her did want to resist. A small, ever shrinking part in the back of her head was nipping at her. _Pick. Pick. Pick._It was a scratching, itching, scrabbling little something that was whispering to her: _This is not how it should be. This is not who it should be. It should be Marshall. And it should be cotton, and candy, and gentle, and clumsy, and… loving._ But that's not how it was. It wasn't Marshall, and it wasn't clumsy or gentle or soft and sweet.

It was Barney. And he wasn't gentle. Not that his hands or his lips were harsh; they weren't. But he didn't treat her as if she was a porcelain doll. He didn't treat her as if he was afraid of breaking her with the strength of his body, the force of his kiss, the press of his hands. It wasn't what she was use to. But it felt… it felt like….

She let her fingers curl though the short hairs at the back of Barney's neck, and her mind began to numb.

He pulled her lower lip between his, nibbling at the skin, suckling at her mouth. She tasted like strawberries - her neck, her jaw, her lips - strawberries. And he found himself wondering if all of her tasted of strawberries.

As their kiss deepened, Lily lifted her leg up along Barney's thigh, trying to purchase more of his body.

Grinning against her lips, Barney lifted her form higher on his frame, pinning her against the wall with the weight of his body.

From her new position, Lily wrapped both of her legs around his hips, melding her center against his. His hands kneaded her ass cheeks, tugging her as close to him as possible without his actually being inside of her.

He moved a hand to her shoulder, and he plucked at the strap – the thin strap – of her little micro knit green dress.

"I like this. Looks good on you Aldrin."

She chased after his lips hungrily, only half aware of what she was doing. But she thought she might like this; this following someone else's steps. His leading and her following. Her heart twinged with the thought. This was so different from how things were with Marshall. Where she always set the tempo and the steps of the dance… knowing he would follow.

"It looks good on you," he brushed his lips against hers once… twice…, "but, it -."

She groaned, and like the Lily of old, she put Barney in his place effortlessly, "if you say that it would look better on the floor, Stinson, we're stopping this now."

He chuckled against her neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down her spine.

She dropped her hands from his shoulders, and to Barney's surprise, she grabbed at the hem of the dress - the hem that was scrunched around her hips - and she tugged it up and off of her body; arching her frame closer to his when the dress got trapped between her body and the wall.

Within seconds, the sheath was lying on the floor. Beautiful and forgotten.

Lily was crushed against his chest, her bare nipples rubbing against the crisp cotton of his pale blue Armani shirt. He gazed down at her big eyes, big and green, reflecting both lust and pain, and the words slipped out of him. "You're beautiful." Almost immediately, he could see her eyes shuttering, trying to hide away from his compliment. He knew it wasn't what she needed to hear… what she wanted to hear, but apparently, his stupid mouth had needed to say it.

Grinding his hips against hers Barney determinedly pushed Lily against the cold wall; his hard length pressed against her center, as he dragged her… dragged them both, back into the here and now.

The here and now where his hand was palming her bare breast; feeling the nipple somehow tighten even more as he moved his hand in a slow circle over her breast.

Lifting them up and away from the wall Barney headed into the lone bedroom in the apartment.

Depositing her on the bed he stepped back and studied Lily as he removed his tie. Pale almost luminescent skin, dark hair falling haphazardly across her shoulders, nipples – pink and puckered – on small perfect breasts, and a cream colored thong acting as the only barrier between him and nirvana. He journeyed back up her form and locked his eyes with hers as he unbuttoned his cuffs. As he stripped down in front of Lily, Barney could see thoughts flitting past her eyes; he could see them, but he couldn't read them.

_He's shorter than Marshall._ That was the first thing that Lily found herself focusing on. He was still tall, taller than her, but yeah, he was noticeably different in height than Marshall. The other almost immediately noticeable difference between Barney and Marshall was that Barney was beautiful. He was a beautiful male specimen. Strong shoulders, muscular without being overwhelmingly so, narrow waist and hips, strong looking thighs...

So different from Marshall's tall hulking doughy presence. The difference between marble and clay. Between now and then.

She felt her eyes well up with tears over her mind's betrayal of Marshall. Making comparisons was probably natural. But Marshall… Marshall should win those comparisons. He should come out on top; because what she and Marshall had was special. And amazing. And -.

"You wanted someone new Lil. Someone who wasn't Marshall, who didn't remind you of Marshall." Barney stood naked before her, "I'm not Marshall, I don't look like Marshall, I don't act like Marshall, and I sure as hell don't fuck like Marshall."

She closed her eyes and let her head drop back down onto the comforter. _Stop saying his name. Stop saying his name. Please, just stop saying his name. I can't do this if…_

She felt Barney touching her; touching her thighs. He had dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed and was pulling her closer to him. Pulling her cotton clad center closer to his face. His hands were warm and resolute. Intent upon opening the gift that lay before him.

As she lifted her hips to ease the process of getting her underwear off, Lily found herself thinking, mirthlessly, _at least he won't be able to talk for a while._ And then her thoughts faded away to nothingness as she felt him lift one of her legs over his shoulder – his warm breath teasing her center.

And then he was tasting her. Lapping at her as if she was a wine, rare and sweet.

And his Lily **was** sweet. Sweet and tart and fragrant. Like strawberries.

Barney had many strengths. He could manipulate his way out of any situation. He could read people amazingly well (identify with them – no – but read them? Yes). He could also seduce and fuck better than 98% of the people he knew. He understood the wheres and the hows and the whens of the female body. He understood them, and he appreciated them.

And he was appreciating Lily's body now. Letting the tip of his tongue play against her clit, Barney ran a finger along the lips of her pussy. He edged his way along the sensitive skin as she instinctively moved her body closer to his mouth. Dipping his middle finger into her wet heat, he slowly felt her. Felt which planes and surfaces made her quiver beneath his touch.

Within seconds Lily could feel the pressure rising inside her. It grew with each touch of Barney's tongue, with each stroke of his finger. She could feel it climbing, fumbling its way to freedom. To escape. And when he added a second finger to his concentrated attack, she finally found her release.

Her insides shattered and she moaned; a wordless melting into sensation and pleasure.

Fuzzy and faint and filled with buzzing little endorphins, Lily's mind was in a million little pieces. Pieces that she was in no hurry to put back together. She took a shallow breath and moaned with pleasure as she felt him climbing up her body – lifting and centering her in the bed.

As he leaned over her, Lily's eyes fluttered open and she smiled; an open, unaware, pleasure filled smile. "Hey you." Her voice was fragile and soft.

Barney didn't resist the urge to kiss her. Bringing his lips to hers, he let her taste the sticky sweet juices that coated his mouth. When she darted her tongue out and licked at his chin, Barney couldn't hold back the groan that escaped him.

They nipped and nuzzled at one another's lips and jaws and necks as she came down from the cloud she was floating on. Her eyes took him in: leaning over her as Marshall had done hundreds of times before. His forearms on either side of her face, the lower half of his body pressed against hers. It was the same, yet different. Barney's weight was lean and firm against her softness. She didn't feel like she was trapped or lost beneath him. Instead, she felt… she felt… feminine.

Especially when he shifted slightly and his cock moved against her belly. Hard and demanding.

"You held back on me Lil." Barney smiled knowingly; Lily had cum – which, of course, he'd expected – but she hadn't let go all of the way. She'd kept a tenacious grip on where she was, and who she was with.

Leaning to the side slightly, he slipped his hand between their bodies and taking his cock, he rubbed the head along her slit. Teasing her… hell, teasing them both. "I want you to let go this time Lily. Let it all go."

That wasn't letting go? That was holding back? Her body still thrummed with the release… although the sweet pressure was building in her belly again; simmering and heating her veins.

"I want you to feel it everywhere…. Here," his cock nudged against her clit, sending little sparks of pleasure/pain through her nerve endings. "And here," Barney lowered his tongue to her breast licking at her nipple lightly.

She mewed.

"And, I especially, want you to feel it… here." Barney lifted his head and brushed his lips across Lily's forehead. "You have to let it all go baby." His voice was seductive and warm against her ear. "You can't imagine I'm Marshall. You can't hold on to him. You can't think about him while I'm here. Right here." His hand brushed against the lips of her sex. "Imagining him won't help. It won't work. You can't hide behind his memory. I won't let you." The head of his cock pressed against her entrance.

She hissed lightly.

"You need to know it's me."

"I know it's you, Stinson." She aimed for 'light', but landed on 'fragile and scared'.

Barney pushed into Lily, slowly. "I just want to make sure of that baby." He inched further into her, almost cumming simply from being in her tight warmth.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she surrounded his length. She found herself stretching around him, encompassing him. A welcome invasion.

The tempo Barney set was unhurried and exacting. He was teasing them both with the awareness that he fit her… completely; torturing them both with the knowledge that if he simply picked up the cadence, changed his stroke, he could bring them both to the edge – and send them over – but he wouldn't. Not until he was positive that she was there with him. Completely and fully.

_I can do this. I can do this. I don't have to give everything to him. I can keep part of myself – Marshall – for me._ She forced herself to breath; her fingers curving into Barney's biceps every time he buried himself inside of her.

_I can do this._

Only, she wasn't positive she could.

"Just tell me what you want baby." His voice burrowed into her mind, cutting out a spot made just for him. "Tell me what you need, Lily. I swear I'll give it to you."

But she couldn't do it. She couldn't admit to needing him; wanting him. How could she want and need Barney when all she had ever wanted and needed was Marshall?

_Marshall._ She clung to the picture of his face. Desperately trying to keep him safe in the little corner she'd tucked him away in.

But it wasn't Marshall's voice whispering in her ear, "Tell me that you want to cum. Tell me that you want me."

It wasn't Marshall's hand ghosting along her skin.

And it wasn't Marshall's cock tunneling into her - being accepted by her body – bringing her so close.

Barney dropped his forehead to Lily's. _She was killing him. Fucking killing him._

He had stamina. He was known for his stamina. Hell, he bragged about his stamina. But Lily? Lily could bring a king to his knees. The way she clutched at him. With her hands and her thighs and her muscles – slick and tight. _Fuck!_ He had his strengths, but even a strong man could only last so long around temptation like this. He lowered his hand from Lily's sensitized breast, gliding it down along her ribcage and over her hip. He moved his hand to where they were joined, feeling his cock slide into her center before he lifted his thumb to her clit and strummed the tiny bundle of nerves.

Lily's eyes shot open as she felt a shock of pleasure fire through her.

_Barney._

It was Barney whispering to her, touching her…, fucking her.

Blinking back tears, she dug her nails into Barney's shoulders.

"More."

"More what baby?"

She was close. So close. And it was all because of his body. His touch. Him.

"More… you."

He groaned. _Thank God._ "Whatever you want baby."

He adjusted the cadence of his strokes, breaking the slow rhythm they had been dancing to. His body lacked the impressive control he'd displayed before. Now, he was moving completely on instinct. His muscles doing only what felt natural.

As he pushed into her, deeper and harder, their eyes locked. And they began to breathe the same air; to breathe one another.

"I want you to cum for me Lily." His voice dropped, "Cum with me." He felt her muscles contract around him once; clinging to him and then releasing him.

"Fuck." He was going to break. He was going to break and come before her. "Tighten around me baby. One more time. Just for me baby. C'mon Lil." He added his index finger to his thumb on Lily's clit, pinching.

Her eyes widened and she clinched around his cock. Her hands and her center holding on to him like a vice. Then suddenly she felt everything around her fracture. As her world disintegrated, Lily called out his name. Called out the name of the man who was making love to her. "Barnnneeeyy"

The tightness, the look on her face - lust laced with knowledge, and his name sighing out of her perfect mouth…? Barney finally came.

((())))

The world had put itself back together a few minutes ago. And with its recreation had come near-silence.

Lily lay with her head on Barney's chest, listening to the sound of his heart quietly thumping inside his ribcage.

His hand was in her hair again, combing through the strands as he quietly rubbed his chin along the top of her head.

Moving her hand from his pec to his waist, Lily tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips to Barney's chest, gracing the skin there with the smallest of kisses.


	4. Unspoken

We don't talk about it at all.

We don't talk about the nights that he crawls into my bed and holds me close. Safe. We don't talk about the nights that he pulls me close and touches me. Touches all of me.

If we did talk about those nights, the words would come in moans, and whispers, and muted pleasure. They would describe how he spends hours caressing me; tracing his fingers along my skin… simply, silently, appreciating me.

But we don't talk about those nights. We don't talk about how I welcome him to my bed, to my arms, to all that is me. It isn't much, the 'me' that I offer up to him. But he takes it, and savours it; holds me like I'm a treasure. A dark treasure.

He knows I'm broken. Tortured by thoughts of what might have been; what will never be. But he comes, still, to heal me.

There have been times… a few rare times, when I've wondered if maybe I might be healing something broken in him. I've wondered if he was, maybe, as broken as I am and if maybe I'm the salve, the glue that's holding him together. Those are the times when I've thought that he was receiving something from me. Something from my skin, from my touch, from my lips at his neck, or my voice in his ear.

But then I remember that he's Barney Stinson. And I remember that I'm just one of the women he's had; one of the women that he will have. And I remember that I'm his friend. And then I remember Marshall.

I think of Marshall at the oddest times these days. I don't think of him all the time like I use to, but he comes to me at the most unexpected, twisted times. Like two… no three weeks ago. I was watching Seinfeld; it was the episode with O'Brien.

George was picking up Jerry from the airport and they saw the chauffer holding up the sign looking for 'O'Brien'. And I remembered the stupid, stupid tradition Marshall and I had regarding airports. I'd bring him beer from wherever I'd traveled to, and he'd be standing there, waiting for me in the disembarkment area with a sign in his hands, and stupid chauffer hat on his head. _Waiting for me._

It was our tradition.

It was stupid.

…but George and Jerry and O'Brien…..

And it was an hour later that Barney walked into my place, and found my face covered in tears. All over a dumb TV show…, and an even dumber tradition.

As he pulled me into his arms, all I could do was mumble that it was too much. The apartment, the music I listened to… all of it was fingerprinted by Marshall. _It was too much._

He held me until his shirt was soaked, and his jacket was ruined… and then he held me closer… until I melted against him.

(())

Ties.

I look in the top left-hand drawer of my dresser, and there are ties. Not cotton or rayon ties – the Marshall kind – but silk and satin ties… the Barney kind.

I open the next drawer, my camisoles. The next drawer, my sweatpants and t-shirts. I open the bottom drawer, and there, neatly folded, are boxers and boxer briefs. Again, not Marshall's – those were packed away long ago - no, these belong to Barney. The tips of my fingers touch the blue silk ones as I push the drawer closed.

I move, half aware of what I'm doing, to the closet. I lift the sleeve of one of the grey-blue shirts I find hanging there, rubbing the cloth between my fingers before bringing it to my face. _Does it have his scent on it?_ I've barely breathed in the clean linen scent of the cloth when I release it, letting it drop back into place.

As I close the doors to the closet I look at the bed, covered with his silk sheets. And beside the bed, on the night table, his watch. A smile plays at my lips, 'He must have been… distracted this morning before he left for work.'

I pick up my paint brush and head into the spare bedroom; my fingers tingling with a desire to create something new.

(())

A day later and my mood has changed. And I'm angry at everyone… all of them. I'm angry at their happy, smiling faces; their cheerful, laughing voices.

… and, I think I'm angriest at Barney. Not that he smiles too much or laughs too much around me, but he… he's everywhere. He's seeped in to my life, and I can feel him clinging to my skin; running through my veins. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel him watching me as we lay in bed.

_I wonder why he won't just let me go._

_I wonder why I can't just let him go._


	5. Change

"Are you okay?" He stood a foot or two behind her, watching as she began making herself another rum and coke.

"I'm fine." Her voice was taut, firm. She was controlled and in charge of her emotions…. until he took another step in, pressing his chest against her back. Then her edges began to fray. "I'll… be okay." She stopped pouring the sweet, icy soda and lowered the bottle to the counter.

"We can go home." He took her free hand in his, warming the cool flesh.

_Home._ He didn't think of his apartment as home anymore…. When he thought of home, he thought of Lily's apartment. Lily and Marshall's apartment. The craftsman wood, the crown molding, the stained glass windows… so ,bnot his style. But they indicated home none the less. Why? Because Lily was there. "We _don't have to stay. We can order in, that awesome Thai place on 3rd… I'll even watch that stupid Harold and Kumar flick with you."_

_She smiled despite herself and leaned further into his body. Per usual, he was tempting her; temptation was what he did best.… Well, okay, temptation was what he did second best._ But he was damn good at it. Too good. She slowly stiffened and pulled herself out of his arms, taking her soda with her.

"That would be rude Barney. We're here with friends… having fun. Let's have fun." She smiled perkily, falsely, and headed into the living room.

They were all at Ted's, gathered for an evening of revelry and drunkenness. Drunkenness that was well underway for all; and revelry that was underway for Ted and Robin. But not for Lily and Barney.

Lily was in a dark mood tonight. She'd been in a dark mood for the last week. Quiet and withdrawn. And apparently, when Lily was dark… withdrawn – anti the revelry – Barney followed suit. But also like Lily, he had a façade, a mask that he wore for the benefit of others. For the benefit of those who wouldn't understand.

He sighed, straightened his tie, and then his cuffs, and pushed into the living room. "Who's in the mood for a little bit of magic?"

Eventually the two of them made it home; Ted and Robin none the wiser that Lily was faking her chipper smile and her lilting laugh. But, Barney thought as he loosened his tie as he closed the apartment door behind them, Robin and Ted were 'none the wiser' about a lot of things. They weren't aware, for instance, of just how much time Lily and he spent together. They didn't notice, or perhaps they didn't care, that when they called Lily's place, or stopped by her place, nine times out of ten, he was there.

Proof 1056 that people only see and hear what they want to see and hear. He bent over and took off his shoes, placing them next to the coat rack where Lily liked them; handy, but out of the way.

_Kind of like him._

He was handy – he could hold her close, ease her pain, make her body and her mind forget - but apparently, more importantly, he was handy because he could be moved out of the way. Set to the side.

Like now. He sat on the arm of the couch and watched Lily move around the room, slipping off her shoes, wiggling her toes on the rug. Then picking up her shoes and moving toward the bedroom.

Within seconds she'd returned to the living room, wearing a pair of dancer's shorts and one of his shirts. She stopped, settled on the couch and unrolled the socks she carried in her hand. As he watched her curve her feet into the white socks, he realized all of her actions seemed 'normal'. She wasn't crying. She wasn't cursing under her breath. But still, something was wrong. Something that had been wrong for days now.

He didn't know what the 'something' was. But he felt it. He'd gone, somehow, from - from whatever it was he'd come to mean to her - to a version of Robin. A version of Ted. A friend. A close friend. But this new role was nothing like the intimacy, the familiarity, the belonging he'd felt with her, for her, during the past year.

He didn't know what had changed. He hadn't felt it coming. Hadn't seen or sensed his world changing. But it had.

Barney prided himself on his ability to read people. It allowed him to manipulate them that much easier. And until recently, he had been able to read Lily. Manipulate her…? No. But read her yes. Her ability to read him as well as he read her, made manipulation of her impossible…, but he could read her. They understood one another.

He watched her settle back on the couch, remote in hand. Maybe if he just watched her a little longer. Studied her like a book - a mysterious book with an ornate cover and frail wispy pages with the most unique writing on them - maybe then he'd figure it out; he'd figure out what changed. And he'd figure out how to put things back. Back to the way they were. Limbo. Beautiful, delicious, oblivious, limbo.

(())

She was hyper aware of him. Aware of where he was sitting. That his shoes were off and that his tie was loose and askew. She even knew that his eyes were on her; that he'd been studying her; studying her form, her frame, the way she moved. From anyone other than Barney, the subtle staring would be irritating. From him, it was soothing.

And that scared her.

Her secrets had grown exponentially in the last week. Grown in ways she'd never thought they would. And the fact that he, Barney, could read her so well frightened her. Frightened the hell out of her. She couldn't afford for him to figure out all of her. Couldn't afford to let him read her.

So she was working on building a new wall. Something that would keep him at bay. A new wall, to keep his eyes from seeing her. Keep his touch from waking her. Keep his voice from teasing and soothing her. If she could build this wall, strong enough, high enough, everything might be all right again.

She lifted her knees up to her chest as she sat on the couch, her head lying on her arms as they rested atop her legs. _Who am I kidding? It will never be all right. It'll never be right again._ He wasn't just some mistake she could paint over, or some whisper she could pretend she didn't hear. He… this thing between them could be life altering.

She turned her head to the side as it rested on her arms and she looked at Barney.

Their eyes met and danced; instinctively memorizing the features and beauty of the person before them.

And suddenly, she could feel the tears welling up inside of her. She didn't want to cry in front of him. Not again. He'd seen too much of her pain. Suffered through too much of it already. And to have him see her cry now, 'because' of him? Because of what they'd done? She could be cruel. Undeniably so. But she wouldn't be that cruel. Flashing a sad smile at him she lifted her head and stared at the television again.

She blinked once, twice.

(())

_She won't let me in._ Barney tightened his hands in to fists. Fists that clenched and unclenched, his manicured nails biting into flesh. Lifting one hand to his tie, he pushed it back into place. "So I have a date in about twenty minutes." He stood up, turning his back to her. "Cute blonde. Met her at the coffee shop, Becker St." He slid his feet back into his polished Armani loafers. "I-I'll see you round Aldrin."

And then he was gone. Out the door. Off to spend a night alone in his apartment.

Leaving Lily alone.


	6. Explosions

It had been four weeks since Lily had seen more than a glimpse of Barney. Four weeks since their silent little explosion. The silent explosion where she said so little…, and he heard so much.

But even after four weeks, the debris of their explosion continued to flitter and flutter down around her.

And Lily simply continued to pretend that nothing was wrong with her life. Nothing wrong with them.

She pretended when she was home alone, puttering around the apartment with his things still there, still speaking to her.

She pretended when she was with their friends, hanging out with Ted or Robin; and his name came up in conversation….

She even pretended when they were out in public, all of them – Ted, Robin, herself… Barney – she forced herself to pretend everything was okay.

And she was rather good at pretending. Hiding behind a fake smile.

She was rather good at pretending, that is, until just now. Just now, at this very moment when Barney walked into the bar with a brunette on his arm; a brunette who, from this moment forward will be identified as: Slut.

Slut is tall and curvy, with tits out to 'there'… and she's dressed like, well…, like the super-whore she clearly is.

Because, of course, super-whores are the type of women Barney Stinson is drawn to. Stacked super-whores.

I stare at Slut's tits before surreptitiously glancing down at my own chest; I push the girls forward a bit.

It doesn't help much.

_Damnit._

"Hey guys," Barney swung his date around to face the table, "this is Becky. Becky, this is… everyone."

Slut leans into Barney with a giggle, her hand curving under the lapel of his suit, "Betty. It's Betty, Barney." She kisses his cheek tipsily. "Hee, hee, we're Barney and Betty. Like the Rubbles." Her hand traipses along his body as if it belongs to her.

_Bitch._

As the group greets her with mild enthusiasm, Slut frowns and elucidates, "You know… Barney and Betty Rubble…, from the Flintstones?"

_Dumb Bitch._

"Brilliant observation, Betty. How'd you come up with that?" The words are out of my mouth before I know it. And immediately, I know I should have kept my mouth shut. Speaking will only get me in trouble. Give me away.

I seal my lips as Slut responds.

"Oh, I don't know… It just came to me." She smiles cluelessly and settles next to me in the booth.

Great, now I'm closer to the tits… the clearly plastic tits. And even better, I can feel his eyes on me. He heard the sarcasm in my voice; and now he's looking at me, a question in his eyes. The eyes I can't meet.

"So Betty," _Slut_, "How did you and Mr. Rubble meet?" My lips are moving again, unprompted by my mind.

"Mr. Rubble?" Betty's face scrunches in confusion, and then it clears as the low-watt light bulb lights up above her head. "Ohhhhhh! Mr. Rubble! Hee hee hee, Umm, Barney and I met earlier today at the grocery store. We were by the fruits and vegetables and he told me he liked my melons. Which was really funny, because, I wasn't looking at the melons, I was looking the cherries."

I finally lift my gaze to Barney's and with my eyes I ask: 'Really?. Really Barney? IQ the same size as her bra?'

He clears his throat "So Bec-erh-Betty, another drink?" Without waiting for her response he escapes from his chair and heads to the bar.

(())

_So what the fuck was that?_ He milled around the bar, not bothering to catch the bartender's eyes. He needed to think. Lily was confusing him. Again. Still. Perpetually. He'd thought they had something…. Something he couldn't quite label. With Lily, he'd felt a peace he'd never felt with anyone before. And then… then she withdrew; concealed herself from him. One day she'd been right in front of him… all strawberries and cream, and cinnamon… and the next, she was gone.

He'd looked for her. Searched for her in their… her… bed. He'd held the frame that he'd come to worship… to desire, and he'd found it just that. A frame. Empty and devoid.

Not even right after the loss of Marshall had she seemed so empty. Then, she'd been smoky and ashy and shattered; but now? The last week that he'd been with her? Touched her? She'd been nothing more than a shell. And he didn't know why.

At first, he'd thought… maybe… maybe she was hiding from him. That she was scared. Scared of the 'something' that was happening between them. But after three weeks of silence. Three weeks of the empty shell of Lily – facing him, looking at him. He'd let go of that thought. He'd ignored the nameless ache in the center of his gut, and he'd taken the hint.

He'd left.

And now, here he was, a month later; and the ache had become a constant pain. Constantly scratching and biting at him.

Throughout the past few weeks he'd been tortured.

It was all mental. Emotional.

But it was torture none the less.

He didn't eat. He didn't drink. He didn't go out with women. He barely made it to work each day. And every night, he found himself lying alone in his bed, his hand on his turgid cock, dreaming of touching… fucking Lily.

Of course, while HE knew he was fading away, the world around him was oblivious. He was still the consummate performer. He continued to put in his appearances around Robin and Ted, amazing them with his magic, his ego, his tales of conquest; they were good friends, but so blind.

Perhaps their blindness was catching. Because he was questioning his own eyesight tonight.

Lily had been sarcastic.

Not that she didn't do sarcastic. She did. She did it well.

But she'd been sarcastic to a stranger. To his date. To Becky, erh, Betty.

And **that** wasn't Lily's style. She'd pick on any member of the gang, snark at them sunrise to sunset. But with strangers? Lily was the accepting one. The welcoming one.

So what the hell happened with Betty?

He glanced back at the table, watching everyone as they chit-chatted. Watching Lily. He blinked and turned back to the bar. "One Sam Adams – in the bottle, and a glass of the house white."

(())

"…so as Robin was saying," Ted leaned across the table his eyes intent on Lily, "We think it's time you start dating."

_Are you fucking kidding me?_ Barney forces himself not to look over at her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lily screeches, then turns beet red when she realizes she's the center of attention in the bar.

"Lily, it's time." Robin supports Ted's assertion.

"No. No it's not time."

"Lil, honey..."

Ted jumps back in to the argument. "Lily it's like Barney always says, if you fall off your ride, pick up your saddle and hop back on…. You need to hop back on."

Barney can feel the anger emanating from Lily and he's actually a little happy. He hadn't felt anything from her in a month, so even anger was a good thing. That being said, he wasn't too happy with where this discussion was heading. Lily wasn't ready to date. _She's mine._ She wasn't ready to be with someone else. _She's mine._

_Jesus, I'm a selfish bastard._

"I'm not ready to hop. Or to ride." Lily bit out, anger and embarrassment vying for vantage. Her eyes slice toward Barney. "A dead husband isn't like a horse." She looks back at Ted and Robin. "You don't just pull the saddle off and mount the next stallion that comes along."

"Lily, it's been over a year."

"Is there a time limit?" Her tone is biting; she glances at me again, quickly, almost imperceptibly. "Is there a time limit for grief?"

(())

And her insides are clawing at her now. _Eleven months. It only took me eleven months to let Barney into my bed. Whatever laws existed for grieving and propriety? I smashed them. I gave up on Marshall._

Robin looked at Ted, her face clearly reading 'I thought she was over this mourning stuff?'

His responding shrug clearly reading 'Gee, I thought so too.'

And Barney was suddenly done for the night. The anger seeping from Lily's skin had been one thing, it had been almost cathartic. What he couldn't stand was the pain… and the accusations. He could feel both pouring out of her now; and his hands itched to touch her skin, to sooth her. But he knew he wasn't allowed.

"Well it's been swell guys, but Bec-ty and I have to leave." He stood up. "Places to go, things to do." Reaching for Betty's arm he pulled the confused, tipsy woman out of the booth.

"We're going, Barnenneeeeyyy?"

"Need to get you home and into bed." He turned on the charm as he slipped his arm around her waist, supporting her sagging frame.

"Ooooh," Betty giggled and let her hands drift from Barney's chest to his belly. "Bed, huh?"

Letting his gaze sweep over the members of the table he paused at Lily. "Goodnight everyone."

(())

She couldn't breathe; couldn't think as his eyes flashed over hers. And then he and Slut were leaving, walking out of the bar.

"Lil?" Robin placed her hand on Lily's arm.

"I'm sorry. I – I love you guys for wanting me to be happy. But, I don't know if I'm ready yet." She felt sick inside. _I'm a selfish bitch. I gave up on Marshall. I let him go. For… for… Barney._

"Lily…" Ted started.

"No. Thanks. But... no." She fumbled for some cash in her purse, threw it on the table and slid out of the booth and stumbled to the front door. Drunk with self loathing.

(())

Barney opened the taxi door and shuffled/pushed/guided Betty into the back. Slamming the door shut he walked to the front and repeated the address Betty had slurred in his direction. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and counted out the fare and a substantial tip before tapping the hood of the cab and backing away from the curb.

After the cab had moved down the street a few feet, a confused Betty staring out the back window in his direction, Barney turned around and found himself face to face with Lily. His mind screamed: _my Lily._

Her eyes were wide, and her skin pale; she looked tired, and confused, and surprised. She took a step towards him; her body and her mind directing her to do opposing things. "No Rubble Rumble in the bedroom to night?"

He smiled tightly. "No." _So is now when I say, I only have eyes for you? That nothing tastes as sweet as you? That I need you?_ He remained silent.

She tried again. "I would have thought you'd be all over… that. I mean – she was built, drunk, and dumb." She had moved two steps closer to him as she spoke. And now she was just a foot, maybe two, away from him. "That **is** the Barney Special, isn't it?"

This time he moved, stepping forward so that his body was against hers, lightly. He slid one hand around her waist and used the other to tilt her chin up. And the whole time, with every move he made, he was cursing himself; wondering why he was doing this to himself. To her.

When his lips touched hers, Barney remembered 'why'. His mind cleared and he realized that regardless of the fact that he didn't deserve her, that he'd never be 'it' for her. SHE was his salvation. Salvation in a tiny small red headed package.

Even the devil - knowing he was damned and undeserving of salvation, somewhere, deep inside - desired to be saved.


	7. Oblivion

She watched him pad out of the bathroom, bare assed, and uninhibited. Her half closed eyes followed him to the foot of the bed where he stooped to pick up his robe which had fallen/been kicked to the floor during last night's activities. She closed her eyes as he slipped on the robe and exited the bedroom.

He would go to the kitchen next, put on the coffee, go to the front door and collect his paper.

He was a creature of habit. Surprisingly so.

- He always wore his robe to get his paper from the hall.  
- He didn't like to speak in the morning until he'd had his first sip of Langebourne Kenyan coffee.  
- He had to sleep on the right side of his bed. Her bed, he accepted the left side without murmur. But his bed? It had to be the right side.

See, creature of habit.

She curled into the middle of the bed, burying her head in his pillow and breathing in.

She had a few more minutes before the coffee would be done, so she breathed in again, taking in his scent and wondering if he ever did the same thing; if he ever leaned over her pillow, after she'd left the bed, and searched for her fragrance. She hoped so. It would make this wordless, nameless thing that they had, two-sided. It would mean he was as lost as she was.

And that would be nice.

It would be nice to be lost together.

They'd spent the last three weeks being a couple. Unannounced to the world. Unannounced to themselves. But a couple nonetheless. They spent every night together; dinner, movies, theatre, television at home, and then… to bed; in the bedroom where very little sleeping was done.

Sex with one another wasn't a new experience for them, but the companionship; the public coupledom, that was new. For the past three weeks, in front of everyone except for Robin and Ted, they had been 'a couple'. Replete with hand holding, arms around waists, pecks on the cheek – a couple.

Perhaps it was the fact that they were spending all of their time at Barney's apartment. Using his space as a… a … new, neutral ground. A space where there was no ghost of Marshall. A space where there were no tears. All that existed was the two of them. Barney and Lily.

They still didn't talk to one another about their… relationship. About her fears. Or about his feelings of unworthiness. They didn't even really think about those things. Ignorance was bliss, and words… well….

Pulling her still tired frame out of his bed, she studied the clothes that lay on the floor: uncomfortable and impractical skirt, fitted sweater shirt, lace panties – his favorite - and bra. None of them looked particularly appealing at the moment, so she went with her second option. Opening his bottom dresser drawer, she pawed through his pajamas, finally finding the pair she wanted. Pulling out the top, she draped the blue green silky material over her shoulders, and slipped her arms into the armholes; buttoning the bottom four buttons as she wandered into the kitchen.

She ran her hand through her hair in a quick attempt to tame it before going to the cabinet closest to the sink. Standing on tiptoe, she pulled two mugs out. Pulling cream out of the refrigerator, she poured a light amount into Barney's cup before scooping sugar into both of their mugs.

She smiled when the coffeemaker gave a light buzz indicating that the coffee was ready. _Perfect __timing._

She filled both cups with the dark fragrant brew and carefully headed into living room.

He was sitting on the couch, paper in hand and lap, reading something that she was fairly certain wouldn't interest her in the least.

She put their cups on the coffee table before sitting down next to him and collecting the pieces of the paper he'd set aside that weren't important to him. Pulling out the comics, she pulled her knees up onto the couch letting them rest on his thighs, and she started to read.

They sat like that for a half an hour. She made it through the comics, the entertainment section, and had just started the editorials, when Barney folded his paper and dropped it on to the table. "So do you want to do anything special today?"

Dropping her own paper, she perched on her knees and placed one hand on his chest as she swung a leg over his thighs and settled onto his lap. "I had one or two ideas in mind."

He smirked his 'I'm gonna get some' smirk. "Your mind is a wonderful, wonderful place."

She bent forward and rested her lips against his, speaking at the same time that she nibbled at his lips. "I have many wonderful places Stinson."

"Can I go exploring?"

"Sorry, me first." She slid off of his lap and onto the floor in front of him. Moving her hands to the tie of his robe, she tugged it loose. A fleeting thought, a comparison between his physique and Marshall's flitted through her mind. It wasn't the first time she'd made the comparison, and she doubted it would be the last. It was, however, the first time that the comparison didn't make her feel guilty; as if she was betraying Marshall.

It was also the first time that the comparison between the two men who were so different, yet both, so important to her, didn't hurt.

She didn't analyze the lack of pain; analysis would lead to the discovery of things that she still wasn't quite ready to address.

No, instead of analysis, she focused on the task – Barney - at hand.

His robe open, his body was bared to her and she glanced up at him as she moved forward and tipped her head to his stomach. Her tongue tip moved along his abs, tracing the outline of his six-pack.

As her mouth moved along his stomach, she let her hands travel to his already semi-erect cock. Her fingers were cool along his length, and she could feel him shudder, ever so slightly in response. With her second hand she cupped him, massaging his heavy testicles.

She let her head drop lower on his body, approaching her goal by following a slow, leisurely, teasing trail.

"Baby…" He spoke in a half a gasp, half whisper.

"Nuh uh," she whispered and paused in her ministrations, "No talking. If you speak, I'll have to stop, and you wouldn't want that… would you?"

His eyes partially closed peered down at her. "Nu-," he caught himself and stopped speaking, simply shaking his head 'no'.

She grinned ingenuously, and moved back to her… task.

When her mouth finally reached the thick, head of Barney's cock, she looked up at him again.

_Words were… not enough._

_They truly weren't._

They didn't describe the width and breadth. The depth, the intensity of everything – anything – she felt about/around him.

His taste, for instance. Words couldn't explain, couldn't describe, the salt, the bitter, the fullness.

Words couldn't paint the pleasure she took from imbibing him; from his taste, from seeing him – almost helpless – beneath her hungry lips.

Even the flavour of just his skin, the feel of his length moving like hot silk underneath her tongue….

_Words were not enough._

His hips lifted, his muscles tightening and flexing while his hand, caged in her hair, grasped/held, demanded/gave.

Finally clutching her head and holding it in the perfect spot, he came; releasing warm, thick, ropes of his essence into her throat. And as he came, her name, "Lilllllllllly" rasped out of his throat.

_Perhaps, some words…, some words were just enough._


	8. Walls

She hears him come in and she quietly releases the breath she has unconsciously been holding.

- Hears him hang his suit coat on the door knob.  
- And she imagines…? the faint scent of scotch hanging from his skin and clothes.

- Listens to the bathroom door open and close.

She breathes again – and again – and - … waits for him to reappear.

Three hundred breaths later and door opens and closes again, and then the bed shifts.  
The sheets are lifted and he pulls her closer with a sigh.  
He encircles her waist with his arm, and the scent of mint and alcohol – clinical yet sweet – is exhaled as a soft sweet perfume – heady and almost engulfing.

His presence makes her ache.

- It's good.  
- And it's bad.  
- It overwhelms her.

She stumbles out of the bed.

- Feels the cold grasp and cling at her feet and her legs as she quickens her steps to the bathroom.

She closes the door and turns on the hot water, letting it run over her hands.

-Staring at the mirror she tries to explain to the woman who looks back at her that she is 'going to tell him, at some point.'  
-She would tell him that she.. . . . . loved him.

-_I'm just a little scared.  
-A lot scared._

Her twin stares at her from the mirror, pitying her. Pitying her for her fear.

Five counts and she gives in to her desire to be in his arms again.

She opens the bathroom door, momentarily flooding the outer room with light.

-The white sheets are draped over his form, his face hidden in the angles and curves of the shadows.  
-Then the world is enveloped in darkness again.

"Lil?"

'Lost and frightened' fade, once again, at the sound of his voice.

She slides back into bed, slipping under the sheet that he holds aloft for her.

As the cool cloth drapes back across her shoulder, his arm finds its home at her waist, and  
Her form melds against his.

Four walls disappear –

And there remains:

-The moon  
-The warmth  
-The stars  
-The quiet hum of breathing

He murmurs something in her ear, unintelligible, but she knows it's sweet and tender.

And as she snuggles closer, she falls asleep with a promise on her lips to _tell him_ tomorrow.

((((((())))))

Barney thanked the barista as she placed his coffee in front of him and grabbing a sugar packet out of the holder, he looked at Ted, "… and?" Ted had been regaling him with the tale of his latest 'she's the one'.

Ted sat back and tilted his chin inquisitively. "Wait, no. What is up with you? Are you sick?"

Barney rolled his eyes and furrowed a brow. "Uh… no."

"No. Something is up with you. That waitress was smoking hot and you didn't even leer. You didn't leer, you didn't salivate, and you didn't slip her your number on a condom packet. What the hell is up with you?"

Barney glanced over his shoulder at the barista. She was cute, in an Amazon, kind of way. But she wasn't a petite red head with big green eyes. That being said, he should have at least attempted to work his charm on her... for appearances sake.

He was slipping. Slipping into being a one woman man.

And it wasn't as painful as he'd thought it would be.

Not as painful, but a thousand times scarier.

Being a one woman man - being Lily's man - meant he couldn't fuck up. Because if he fucked up, he would hurt her.

And the chances of him not fucking up? Slim to none. His whole life was made of fuck-up. Shiny fuck-up, but fuck-up none the less.

Why she even let him touch her, he didn't know. All he knew was that every once and a while he saw something in her eyes, a flash of… heat… fire… electricity… and it was in response to him. in response to his touch, his words.

He hadn't completely figured out the trick yet; hadn't figured out what exact words, what exact touch brought about those flashes. Sometimes it was her neck, his fingers along her neck. Sometimes it was her thigh, his hand settling on her thigh. Or soccer, he'd mentioned soccer a few times and he'd turn to her and see her glowing at him… for him. Coffee had worked a couple of times too; he'd spoken about his favorite coffees once or twice and she had slipped her arms around him, holding him close. He'd filed away all of these little moments, and the little things he'd done, hoping to eventually decipher a pattern so that he could repeat those words/touches, and recreate those flashes of Lily-fire.

So, yeah, he'd found a few words, a few spots that seemed, somehow to work on her. That he could use as keys to open up the doors that led to her heat. And he felt like a damn king when it worked. But, it was still hit or miss, it was still…...

… He didn't know why she spent time with him. But apparently they'd found some sort of balance, and she saw something in him. Something sort of worthwhile.

Though, for the life of him, he didn't know what the hell it could be.

Turning back to Ted, Barney responded, his usual bravado tempered by weariness, "Been there, done that; she wasn't that good. Dude! Did I tell you about my new project at work? There will be models. And nakedness."

Ted peered at him, not quite believing him, but allowing him to steer the conversation away from his odd behavior of the past few weeks.

(((((())))))

"Don't answer it." Her voice was low; satiated and loose.

"It could be the landlord, for the faucet."

Lily hugged closer to Barney's frame, her head on his chest. "They can come back. It's Sunday; it's 8am on a Sunday morning. Don't they know people are sleeping?" She curved a foot up a long his calf, slowly, "and doing other things?"

His cock responded to her suggestion.

And then the idiot at his front door knocked again.

"Damnit."

Lily offered a halfhearted, mumbled, "Fuck em!" but released Barney so that he could go to the door.

Grabbing his robe he pulled the sash tight around his frame as he padded to the apartment door so that he could give his landlord a piece of his mind... after he fixed the kitchen faucet.

Swinging the door open he huffed an unforgiving, "What!"

"I told you he was here. Pay up." Robin turned to Ted and held out her hand.

"I'll pay you when you pay me back for the lesbian waitress thing."

Robin stopped wiggling her fingers sheepishly.

Clearing his throat and realizing he was in a bad situation here, Barney prompted Ted and Robin with a nervous question. "Hey guys! What – what're you two doing here? Bright and early on a Sunday morning." He shifted so that he was blocking more of their view of his living room with his frame.

The move did not go unnoticed by either Scherbatsky or Mosby who were at his place following up on a hunch, a hunch based on Barney's odd behavior over the past few weeks.

Both of them peered curiously over Barney's shoulders from different sides.

Robin: "Oh…"

Ted: "My…"

Robin: "Fucking…"

Ted: "God!"

Barney hung his head and turned around to find Lily standing frozen in the living room wearing another one of his robes.

She was beautiful.

And he was going to lose her now.

He stepped aside and let their _friends_ into his home.

"Is this what I think this is?" Robin waved her hand between Lily and Barney, while Ted stood with his mouth hanging open.

"Are you thinking that the two of us are wearing the latest in matching fashion statements?" Lily offered hopefully.

Ted spurted, "Uh, no, we're thinking the two of you just climbed out of bed… together… with one another. In a non-sleeping kind of way!"

Lily couldn't look at Barney. She knew he wanted to keep everything about them a secret, at least from their friends. He never wanted to settle down, to be with one woman. Especially not a petite red head who called him on his shit, and was slightly broken.

And …

Barney couldn't look at Lily. He knew she wanted to keep everything about them a secret, at least from their friends. She was using him as a salve. A bridge between Marshall and the rest of her life. Her future. She didn't want a fuck up, she wanted… she deserved someone who wasn't broken.

((((((())))))

"Lily, can I talk to you?" Robin walked towards her friend and without waiting for an answer, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bedroom.

Closing the bedroom door behind them, she glanced at the disheveled bed, at the clothes scattered on the floor. "What're you doing?" She leaned against the door, staring at Lily.

Lily shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

"Lily, you slept with Barney…. Barney!" She paused. "This… is this the first time?"

"No." it was a soft word, filled with want and sadness.

"Did..., did he? Is this because of Marshall?" Robin said his name gingerly.

"No. Yes. No."

"Well that's clear as Canadian mud…. You know the two of you… I mean… he's using you… and you're…you're… I thought you were getting over Marshall?"

Lily's head shot up. "I'll never be 'over' Marshall. We didn't break up. We didn't have a huge fight and decide to call it quits. He died! He was taken from me! I'll never be over him!" She lowered her voice, "But… just because I love him. Just because I love Marshall forever, does that mean I can't..., I don't...?" Her last words were half question, half declaration.

"Jesus Aldrin, are you trying to say that you, you think you love him? Barney?"

She hadn't said the words to Barney. But they slid out of her mouth like an exhalation of breath. She smiled, "He makes me happy. He understands me. I'll love him for as long as he lets me."

((((((()))))))

"Barney, what the hell are you doing with Lily? With Lily of all people?"

"None of your business Ted."

"I thought all of your business was my business. I thought we were best friends?"

_'I have a new best friend?'_ A bit harsh. "Do you tell me everything about your life?"

"Yes."

"Really? Dude! Your life is spectacularly boring!"

Ted flipped him the bird and flopped down on the couch. "Barney, Lily isn't like all of the other women you've messed with. She's special. She's… man… she's Lily!"

Barney was silent – an aberration of nature that rarely occurred – he knew Lily was special. He loved every inch of her specialness. And damnit, he knew he didn't deserve her, but…

"Barney, I swear to God, if you hurt Lily, I'll let Scherbatsky beat the crap out of you."

"If I hurt her, **I'll** let Scherbatsky beat the crap out of me."

Ted stared at Barney. "I hope you've thought this through Barney. I mean, I've never seen you stay with a woman for more than a couple of weeks, and Lily isn't that kind of woman."

_He knew what kind of woman Lily was. He knew better than anyone. Hell, he knew better than Marshall ever had. "I'll stay with her as long as she'll let me stay with her."_

Ted nodded his head, and Barney settled on the couch next to him as they waited for the women to finish _their_ discussion.

((((((()))))))

"So you'll go to the game with me tomorrow night?" Robin asked Lily as they headed into the living room.

"I will be painted, and sporting colors!"

"Wait, waitttt! Are you talking about the Yankee's game? I thought you were taking me!" Ted stood up, a pout in his voice and on his face.

"I decided Lily would be a better wingman. Wingwoman."

"I can be a wing… person!"

"Move it Mosby," Robin pushed him towards the door. "And give it up; I've made up my mind. You're not going."

Robin shoved Ted out the door and without looking back, yelled to Lily, "I'll pick you up at your place… 6pm."

(((()))

Since entering the room she hadn't taken her eyes off of him. She couldn't; if she looked away she would be giving up. And even though she knew she probably should, she wasn't ready to give him up. So she watched him. Eyes intent on his.

And there he was staring right back at her.

Not letting her go.

Not giving up on her either.


	9. Fragments

For a week she simply studied the odds. Calculated and recalculated. Weighed and reweighed.

And at the end of that week, she went to the pharmacy and bought three boxes. Each of the boxes was more or less the same size, but they came in varying shades and combinations of pink and blue and white.

She only bought three of the little boxes because, she reasoned, one, would be too few – they weren't foolproof. And five, she further reasoned, would make her look like an insane woman when she went through the checkout counter.

So three..., three was the magic number.

She went home - to her house for once - and stood frozen just inside of the doorway. She hadn't been in her apartment for more than twenty minutes total during the past month. Her house had become little more than a three room safe.

It held her winter clothes.

It held her CDs (her mp3 player traveled with her).

And it held her – their – pictures. Pictures of her and Marshall.

The rooms were all clean, but a layer of dust covered all the furniture and nicknacks.

She touched the edge of a picture frame and shook off the grey particles that clung to her fingers; it was one of her favorite pictures of her and Marshall. They were standing outside of Ted's brownstone, Marshall was behind her, his arms wrapped around her, his hands on her stomach; a big cheesy grin on both of their faces.

She gently ran her finger along the image of his face.

They had been so happy in this picture. So... aware of the future. Aware of the fact that they had … all the time in the world.

Dropping her hand from the picture with a sigh, she glanced at the open door that led to the bathroom.

She didn't want to be here; but this was the only place that she could do what she had to do.

Heading into the kitchen, she jerked the refrigerator door open, grabbed a bottle of water and twisted the cap off. Chugging down the full contents of the 16 oz bottle, she cracked her head first to one shoulder and then to the other. _Lily Aldrin-Eriksen - big girl panties – pull em up, or rather, down, and... just do it!_ Taking a deep breath she made the short, but ohhhh so long, trek to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later (twenty four minutes for the water to make its way to her bladder, one minute for her to pee on three six inch plastic sticks, and five minutes for the pH balance in her system to be calculated and measured) and Lily was staring at a: +, a blue bar, and the word positive .

And she was laughing.

And she was crying.

(())

She was sitting, puffy eyed, in front of the television when he called. Picking up her cell she contemplated, for a minute, not answering. But she knew if she didn't answer, he'd call again. And again. And then, if she still wasn't answering, he'd start looking for her.

And she couldn't see him right now.

If she saw him she'd break down.

Even just hearing his voice... she clicked the phone on.

"Babe, are you coming home soon?"

She grinned into the phone at Barney's use of the word 'Babe'. He knew she hated the term, but he still used it, teasingly, laughingly..., and sometimes, seductively.

Her grin faded almost immediately as she recalled the three little plastic sticks sitting on the bathroom counter.

And then she recalled Marshall.

...And she remembered the two of them talking about having a baby.

A baby they never got a chance to make.

And now, here she was, pregnant.

With Marshall gone.

With Barney...

"I -," She couldn't see him. "I'm going to stay at my place tonight." _Why? Why am I staying at my place? What reason would convince him? What reason do I have to stay at my place when I haven't slept anywhere but Barney's apartment in the past five months?_ "I have to go in to work early tomorrow so I thought I'd stay here tonight, uh... since it's closer to the school... and, closer... and yeah."

Barney was silent for a beat.

And then for another beat.

And then he asked, "Are you okay?" His voice was low; it was his Lily voice. The voice he used just for her... for when it was just the two of them.

"I'm fine... I... look, Barney, it's late." It was 7 pm. "I just need to get some paperwork done, and I have to go into classes early so, I... it's better that I stay here tonight." She could feel the tears lining the edges of her eyes and she blinked rapidly, hoping Barney would let it go.

He did. "Fine. I'll see you tomorrow...?" It was half statement and half question.

She offered a quiet, "Sleep well Barney" before pressing the disconnect button.

Lily wasn't a crying kind of girl. She didn't break in to tears when she stubbed her toe, or every time she watched chick flicks.

She _had _cried when Marshall died.

She'd cried a lot when Marshall died.

Death of a husband? Yeah she was allowed that one.

All and all though, she wasn't a cry baby.

But tonight, for the second time in less than two hours, Lily found herself crying.

(()))

Barney looked down at the phone still sitting in his hand.

He'd known it would happen. Eventually.

He'd known Lily would come to her senses and want to leave him.

He just hadn't expected it to be now.

For the past few months the two of them had been... a small dark grin crept across his visage...

… they'd been awesome.

((()))

Lily managed to limit her interactions with Barney for the next week; using work and Robin and Ted as buffers.

The buffering, of course was most successful during daytime hours, and less successful at night. Hiding out at her apartment was an option for a couple of nights, but unless she absolutely positively wanted to cut Barney out of her life, she couldn't stay at her place every night.

So she stayed with him, per usual.

Except she didn't sleep with him.

Instead, she sat up late in the living room, laptop settled in front of her, her fuzziest slippers and her least appealing Pjs covering her. She click clacked at the keyboard, shuffling student papers and artwork around until Barney silently disappeared into their – his – bedroom.

A couple of nights that week she feigned falling asleep on the couch – an excuse not to go to the bedroom. But again, that ruse only worked for a couple of days... The other nights found her creeping into Barney's bed in the wee hours of the morning, pressing her frame into a tight little ball at the far edge of the bed.

Her side of the bed.

His silence regarding her withdrawal freaked her out. It freaked her out a lot.

She kept expecting him to poke at her. The loud, boisterous, in your face 'poking' that Barney Stinson was so well known for.

But he didn't.

He didn't poke.

He didn't peep.

He was simply silent. And watchful.

She could swear, on the nights that she crept – silently - into his bed, she could feel his eyes on her – reading her - in the dark.

She knew things were – broken – between them.

And she knew it was her fault.

But she was going to fix it.

She'd do what she had to do and then... then she'd pull her pieces back together, and pretend, for however long Barney would let her, that they could be a couple. A real, flesh and blood, forever and ever couple.

Instead of the twisted mess that colored and painted their reality.

(()))

So, yeah, Lily managed to limit her interactions with Barney for a week; but a week was all she really needed.

At the beginning of that week, she made an appointment for Friday afternoon at Planned Parenthood. They would officially verify the pregnancy, and then... then they would officially terminate the pregnancy.

She didn't let herself think about the consequences of the pregnancy.

She didn't allow herself to think about the consequences of the abortion.

She simply focused on the fact that she wouldn't – couldn't – have a baby that wasn't half Marshall's. She couldn't commit the ultimate betrayal of Marshall's memory.

She didn't let herself think about Barney. Why would she? Barney didn't want her... not really. There was no way he'd ever want a baby... a child... especially not with her.

(())

The procedure only took two hours, from start to finish. Pregnancy to Un-pregnancy.

And she was fine afterward.

Really.

Just fine.

(())

He wished she'd leave him.

Just go.

Take the knife out – in one quick movement – and... let him bleed.

But she didn't, instead she just... lay there. Cool and slender; deep in his gut. In his heart.

He laughed hollowly. It was funny; Lily was the only woman in the past thirteen years who had EVER faked anything with him. And in just the past week she'd: faked working at her computer, faked falling asleep on the couch, and she'd faked wanting to come to their bed at night.

And worst thing about it? He didn't have fucking clue about what to do. How to fix it.

Fucking a woman? He could tease her g-spot, he could taste and tickle her clit. There were things he could do to make her 'stop faking it' and start 'feeling' it. But getting Lily to cum wasn't his problem. It never had been. His problem was that she was faking wanting to be near him... His problem was that he was losing her.

And honestly, how the fuck could he convince her to stay when even he didn't believe she should be with him.

So now, after a week of silence - after she'd, obviously, come to the conclusion that what they had was... done - he'd decided he simply needed to cut his losses and let her fucking go.

He straightened his tie and tugged at the lapels of his suit jacket. It was Friday night and Lily would probably be home in a few minutes, and when she got home, he was going out.

He was going to go to the nearest bar and he was going to find the biggest pair of boobs attached to the tallest, amazonian woman he could find, and he was going to bury himself in that woman and make her cum as many times as he possibly could.

After all, he had some value and worth.

He heard the key scratch at the apartment door lock and, giving his reflection one more glance, he plastered on his Barney don't-give-a-damn smile.

The smile disappeared as soon as Lily entered the apartment.

She didn't look at him, she was staring at the floor, but he could still see her eyes were too big, too wide. Her lips pressed together too tightly. Her frame too fragile looking.

She'd only taken a few steps into the apartment but he could tell something – tonight – was different. And his plans, his 'cut before you're cut' plans, faded into nothing.

"Lil?"

She didn't say anything, but those too big eyes lifted up to meet his and all he could think to do was open his arms.

She melted into him.

Silently.

He curved his fingers through her hair, soothing her even though he didn't know exactly why he was doing so.

All he knew was she was trembling, and she was clinging to him, wrinkling the silk-cotton blend of his favorite grey JIL Sander's suit.

He didn't care about the wrinkles because Lily was crying… and he didn't care about the wrinkles because he was holding her.

And he honestly didn't know which emotion was stronger, concern that she was crying, or happiness that she was in his arms.

(()))

There are two more days of silence.

But it's a different kind of silence.

This silence is full of wishes never thought, fears never conquered, whispers never made.

And in this silence – this silence – Lily clings to Barney.

She sits on the couch, her hand tangled around his arm, her body curled up next to his. She lies in their bed and sleeps deeply with her head curved against his chest.

She thinks, and doesn't think, about all that has been and all that never will be.

And after the two days of 'never' filled silence, she tells him.

In her head, prior to telling him, she futzes with the words, ordering and reordering them in search of the right pattern.

'So... sometimes, women and men, have a little... accident and there's this way of fixing and undoing this little accident.' _No that sounds like I'm talking to one of my students about bladder control._

'So, I was suppose to have a kid with Marshall, and God made a mistake... timing a little off; there's no Marshall, so of course, I made sure there's not going to be a kid... but anyway, just thought you should know.' _I just thought you should know? Jesus!_

'Know how I've been a bitch for the past week and a half? And how I've been crying on your should for the last couple of days? Yeah: pregnant and now un-pregnant. Hormones are a bitch!' She dropped her head in to her hands. She had to find the right way to tell him.

But in spite of her determination to find the 'right' way to tell Barney about the un-pregnancy, she ended up telling him in the most unspectacular, unplanned, dissatisfying manner in the world. The words simply escaped her lips.

Sunday night Barney made them dinner. He poured her a glass of wine and served her her plate, and then he settled into his own chair and picked up his fork.

The words chose this moment. This very moment to fly out of her mouth: "I had an abortion... on Friday."

His fork was poised and frozen mid-air as his brain processed her words.

His eyes flitted up from his plate and locked with hers. Blue trying to decode and decipher what they were reading in Green.

He blinked once, twice. And then he lowered the fork to his plate.

She watched his nostrils flare.

"You... what?" His mind was spinning.

She pushed away from the table and tore her eyes from his; watching him, being so close to him was..., painful.

He spoke again. "Why?"

Small word, huge question.

"You know Marshall and I... we were trying -"

Ever since Marshall had died, Barney had been hyper aware of Marshall's presence in Lily's life. He'd been aware that she was always comparing him to Marshall. And he'd been aware that in most of those comparisons he would always be 'second best'. He knew she had loved – did love – Marshall deeply. And he was prepared for Marshall to always be a part of her life.

Honestly, he was fine with that. He was jealous, but he could live with that degree of jealousy.

He wouldn't – didn't - want Lily to forget Marshall. He'd never expect that of her.

But for once. On this one topic? Barney really didn't give a damn about Marshall. "Fuck Marshall."

Lily's mouth dropped open then she shut it before quickly opening it again.

"No. I get that you and Marshall had a whole life. A life you were living. A life you planned to live. But he's not fucking here Lily! And he had nothing to do with... with..." he couldn't say the word 'baby'. If he said the word, it would be too real. And if it became real, he didn't know if he could forgive her.

And it would suck not being able to forgive the person you were in love with.

He looked back down at his plate. "Why didn't you tell me... before you...?"

"Marshall -" she started.

Barney looked up and tilted his head to the side, eyebrow up; daring her to continue down the path she'd started on.

Lily paused and girding her confidence around her ,she tried again. "Look Barney, you and I both know that this," she waved her hand between the two of them. "This is fun. And pleasurable, but... I – we – we both know this isn't real. A baby... a child... a child is..."

"Real."

"Real."

Each of them, from their own vantage point ached. Longed. For something real.

And each of them, from their own vantage point, knew, _absolutely knew_, that the other one didn't want what they had to offer. Didn't want the reality they were so preciously, unwittingly, tangled in.

Pushing away from the table, Barney headed to the door, stopping only long enough to pick up his money clip, his cell, and his keys.

Twisting in her chair so that she could follow his movement, Lily – more desperately than she'd planned – called out to him. "Wh-where are you going?"

He smirked as he pulled the door open – it wasn't a happy, teasing smirk though, it was dark and just a bit twisted - "Gee Lil, I didn't think we were in the kind of relationship where we told the other person what our plans were."

And then he was gone.


	10. Razor Sharp

_Now the thought_  
_Both of lost happiness_  
_and lasting pain_  
_Torments._  
_-John Milton_

"Anything from Lily?" Ted settled into the booth across from Robin.

"Nothing. I've hinted. Offered bribes. Threatened. Cajoled. And she still won't tell me what Barney did."

"...'Cajoled'. Good word."

"I know! Right?"

"Severely underused word – 'cajoled'" Ted took a sip of his beer and Robin did the same with her own bottle, both of them pondering the question of the neglect of the word 'cajoled'... that and the unexplained split of their pals Lily and Barney. Ted offered up his opinion on the Lily/Barney situation. "Of course, I'm not really surprised; I mean, I think we all knew that whatever they had going on wouldn't last long. I mean, c'mon... Barney and Lily? Lily and Barney?" Ted shivered.

"Still...they seemed… happy-"

"-happy."

They simultaneously sipped their beers again.

Robin offered, "Do ya' think he cheated on her?"

"It _is_Barney that we're speaking of, so cheating would fall high on my list of possible break-up reasons." He started to pick at the edge of the label on his bottle. "Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless... uh..., nothing."

"No. Uh uh. That wasn't a 'nothing 'unless'', that was a 'something 'unless''. Spit it out Mosby."

Tad looked at Robin sheepishly. "You don't think he asked, or tried to...uh... get her to... uh... " he ran a hand along the back of his neck and then the rest of his words splurted out of his mouth, "Do something... kinky?" He peered at Robin sheepishly, "Like a threesome? Or moresome? Or...or …."

"Okay stop right there!" Robin held up her hand and scrunched her shoulders, shivering uncomfortably at the picture his words were painting. "We're sooooo not talking about this any more. Right?"

"Right."

"Right."

"..."

"... spanking; maybe he wanted to spank her? Or worse, Wanted her to spank him!"

"Ted!" Robin crowed warningly.

((()))

_What good is love, when thirst is killing_  
_and there's poison in the well?_  
_What good is it, if you are willing_  
_to buy, but never sell?_  
_What good is love, if you can doubt it_  
_next thing you know, you can't live without it?_  
_Can you tell me, what good is love?_  
_I'm moving on... off this island,_  
_gonna spread my wings,_  
_and seek asylum... in nothing._  
_hat good is love with standards falling,_  
_And your name all over town?_  
_God marks the man, who's attitude becomes his only ground._  
_...can you tell me,_  
_What good is love?_  
_-What Good Is Love by Colin Devlin_

He woke up to the smell of stale sweat and alcohol. The scent was wrapped around him, clinging to him like the threadbare sheets that were tangled around his frame. He kicked at the cotton, working angrily to release himself from its constraints.

Finally free, he reached for the glass that sat next to the hotel alarm clock. _Scotch?_ He threw down the remaining dregs and grimaced. _Rum_. He wondered briefly where he'd gotten Rum from, then with a shake of his head, he realized he didn't really care. _Hair of the dog_... that's all that mattered; he just needed something to take the edge off of the hangover. Although, it faintly occurred to him that this morning's headache was milder than previous mornings.

He must be building a tolerance. _He'd have to fix that_.

It had been five weeks since he'd walked out on Lily – left her sitting in his apartment - a look of guilt painted on her face. Guilt for not wanting to have his child.

He ran a hand through his hair and then ran his palm and fingers over his unshaven face. He'd found out he was a 'dad' and that he'd lost his child in the same moment. The same moment that confirmed his fear that Lily would never want him the way he – He shook his head to stop his mind from heading down the path it seemed unable to avoid. _Get the fuck over it Stinson!_

He forced himself out of the bed and padded naked into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet he looked at his reflection. Blurry red eyes greeted him as he continued to try and put all of his pieces back together. _You didn't – don't - even fucking want a kid! She really did you a favor._

He tested the water with his hand – cold – then cupping his hands together he splashed two bracing shots of the liquid onto his face; his mind still lecturing his emotions. _And you knew she would never really want you as part of her life... Bed warmer, maybe. A few laughs, fine. But... a kid? Commitment? _

His reflection stared back at him, pitying him, mocking him. _Poor stupid bastard._

((()))

_I know I'm an echo_  
_of a man I use to love_  
_even though that was long ago_  
_he's all I'm made up of._  
_-'Made Up Of' by Barnaby Bright_

She slowly pushed the lock of hair covering her eyes away from her face and without lifting her head from the mattress, she squinted at the clock. 6:53am. She let her eyes close again.

37 days.

It had been 37 days since she'd last seen Barney. And it had been 44 days since she'd destroyed the illusion of happiness she and Barney had fragilely built.

She'd broken that illusion into pieces so small, it could never be repaired.

Feeling the bed beside her shift, she screwed her eyes shut and focused on keeping her breathing slow and steady. It would suck to have to talk to the Random she'd picked up last night.

She heard him ease out of the bed. Listened to him fumble around the room, picking up his clothing, shuffling his way into them and creeping to the room door.

Only after she heard the door shut behind him did she reopen her eyes.

She smiled thinly. He'd been the sixth man this week. One more and she'd match Barney's streak.

_Just one more guy._

(())

It had to happen eventually. He'd realized this. But knowing it was going to happen didn't prepare him for the clench and claw that he felt in his gut when it actually did happened.

Seeing Lily again was hell.

He was still so... he wanted to wring her neck; and he'd never wanted to hurt a woman before in his life. Of course, he'd never been so hurt by a woman before in his life.

Yeah, he wanted to wring her neck. But what scared him even more than the itch in his fingers to hurt her... was the fact that he recognized, rolling around somewhere in the middle of his chest, a kernel of 'want' for her in him.

**Still**.

Wanting Lily - and this want wasn't even just physical want; it was centered on the coffees, and the newspapers, and the sleep, and the time they'd spent together - now? Scared him more than the desire to hurt her scared him. The urge to hurt her was... reasonable. Based upon 'real'. Real shit. A real reason.

Wanting Lily was based upon... nothing.

Nothing he recognized.

Nothing he could grasp on to. It left him clinging to the ethereal, and Barney didn't do ethereal; he did reality. What he could see. What he could touch. What he 'knew'.

He watched her wrap her hand around the bicep of the man she'd brought with her. _She use to wrap her hand around his bicep that way; with her 'I'm smaller than you, I could be yours, I could make you __mine' grip. _

Only she couldn't be his. Never wanted to be his. She'd proven that. And he just needed to man up and, and...

He watched her settle on her date's lap. Making a public display of her affection that surpassed any display she'd ever made with him. Hell, it was more than she'd ever displayed with Marshall.

He lifted his glass to his lips and tried to ignore her. Tried to focus on the strained blathering that Ted and Robin were providing in an attempt to control this awkward situation.

The situation that had Barney and Lily in the same room, together, for the first time in six weeks. The situation that had Barney courting a bottle of scotch, while Lily courted some... some... mimbo.

He abruptly pushed his chair away from the edge of the table and without looking at any of them he headed to the bar.

(())

Bringing the guy she'd met the night before: Ed... Ned... whatever his fucking name was, with her to the bar had been a mistake. She'd realized that fact in the cab. Realized it again, when they walked into the bar. And realized it again and again, when Barney's eyes slid over them when they reached the table – their normal booth taken by some other group.

All of the 'normal' in her life seemed to be fucked up these days.

When Barney got up from the table and moved off to the bar, she felt relief. Relief to no longer have his eyes 'not' watching her. Relief to have her guilt and anger back under wraps. Not exposed for the world to see.

She felt relief. And then she panicked.

Mumbling something to everyone at the table. She stood up and pushed her way into the ladies room. She paced the small space, her hands shaking, her skin – every nerve ending – jumping.

She'd thought she could handle this; that was the only reason she'd agreed to show up when Robin had invited her. "_Puzzles is neutral ground, you and Barney can be in the same space, a public space, Ted and I will be there. Mediators. We'll be like Switzerland."_

Yeah, it had sound good in theory.

But reality was something else altogether.

She didn't have a right to be here. After what she'd done. How she'd hurt him. How she'd hurt herself.

She could feel the panic rising in her chest. She needed to get out, and she needed to get out now.

Shaking her hands out nervously, she took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door, planning the half-assed excuse she'd offer when she got back to the table. Her progress out of the bathroom was halted by the sight of Barney, leaning against the hallway wall just opposite the ladies room.

His eyes were cool, his stance tense and relaxed at the same time. Lifting the icy glass that he held in his hand to his lips, Barney shot his first arrow. "Aldrin, I was just thinking about you." His smirk was hard; his words were harder. "I sure hope you're using protection with Ed there, you definitely wouldn't want _another _little accident coming along and changing your life plans."

He pushed away from the wall before she could respond, but not before he saw the sting of his words settle into her skin. Standing in front of her... close enough to feel the heat emanating from her body, he added "He kind of reminds me of Marshall, that big, goofy, boy-next door look." Taking another flavorless sip, he offered second shot, "Is he managing to keep you satisfied in the sack?" His voice dropped as he leaned in even closer, the scent of aftershave and whiskey surrounding her, "What's his record? How many O's has he delivered?"

Every word was razor sharp and hit the mark it aimed for full force.

He'd wanted to hurt her. And he'd succeeded. Pieces of her crumbled right before his eyes: a small section of her armor. A tiny bit of her strength... The littlest corner of her soul.

She opened her mouth and he imperceptibly tightened his spine, ready to deflect whatever barb she was about to throw in his direction.

But then she shut her mouth without issuing a sound.

Her eyes were wide – that lost, pained, tortured, wide openness that he remembered her looking at him with the night she'd come home from the clinic. The night she'd...

He closed his eyes, his hand tightening around the glass, his fingers numb from the ice/or the pressure, or... whatever. He closed his eyes so that he couldn't see her eyes wide open – sparking with something that looked suspiciously like tears.

He felt her move; shimming out of the lavatory entrance and skating around him.

She'd almost made her way out of the bathroom hall when he blindly reached out and grabbed her wrist.

He was still facing the bathroom door – his back to her – his eyes trained on the wood and the peeling paint. "Why'd you do it Lily?"

His fingers burned where they wrested at her wrist. "I just need to know why."

He could hear the clink of bottles and glasses around them. The rush of voices clambering to be heard. Drunken, tipsy, teasing laughter ringing out. But his ears were primed and peeled to hear Lily's voice.

Silence.

She hadn't tried to pull away or escape from his grasp, but his fingers gripped tighter anyway.

He knew why she had done it. But apparently, he was a glutton for punishment. He needed to hear it. From her lips. Proof positive that what he knew to be true, was actually true. Nail in coffin so to speak.

"Why, Lily?" He hated the rawness in his voice - the vulnerability it suggested.

He felt her moving beneath his fingers, and then, she was holding him. Her head against the back of his shoulders, her arms – including the one that was still gripped by his hand – wrapped around his waist.

And she was holding him.

Hugging him.

And he knew he should shrug her off. He should shake her loose.

But honestly, he didn't want to.

As he tugged her arm closer around his waist, he felt her body begin to tremble. Softly at first, then bigger, more violently. Until her whole frame was shaking along the line of his back.

Lily was crying.


End file.
